Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 64: Apology

Matthew

I keep staring at the ultrasonography photo even after Sarah left already.

I can barely make out the shape she pointed to. This tiny, bean-sized blur that’s apparently my child. Our child. The thought makes my stomach clench and my heart stutter.

Setting the photo on the counter, I walk to the liquor cabinet and pour myself a generous glass of scotch.

But even the burning sensation of the liquid doesn’t help my nerves.

I take another swig, remembering the way Sarah looked at me just now—afraid. She was afraid of me. I’ve become the kind of man I always despised.

I look at the ultrasound again. A baby. My baby.

It shouldn’t change anything, this tiny blob on grainy paper. It shouldn’t make me feel this... conflicted. But it does.

I down the rest of my scotch in one gulp and pour another. The alcohol is starting to work its magic, dulling the pain in my chest.

Should I apologize to her? I shouldn’t have grabbed her face so hard. What if I left bruises on her again?

The thought gnaws at me, but I push it down. What’s done is done.

I let myself collapse onto the couch. The room feels too small, too hot.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. She’s carrying my child. But I still resent her.

I stare at the ultrasound again.

"God," I mutter under my breath as I down another glass of whiskey. Then another.

I push myself up from the couch, my legs shaky as I make my way toward the stairs.

I go inside the bedroom and stand in front of the bathroom.

The door swings open, and I find Sarah looking at me wide-eyed.

"What? Why are you just standing there?" she asks.

"I...uh...I came to see if you were done," I stutter.

She narrows her eyes at me. "Are you drunk?"

"A little," I reply.

Sarah sighs. "Is this what it’s going to be like? We argue and you get drunk?"

"It helps," I say.

"With what exactly?" Sarah mutters, tightening her grip on the towel wrapped around her body.

I open my mouth to answer, but the words die in my throat. Water droplets cling to her skin, trailing down her neck and disappearing beneath the white towel. Her hair is wet, slicked back from her face, making her eyes look bigger, more vulnerable.

"Matthew?" she prompts, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

The movement causes the towel to slip slightly, revealing just a hint more of her chest. My mouth goes dry. This isn’t the time to get aroused.

But I am.

Goddammit. Something is seriously wrong with me.

"I..." I clear my throat, trying to remember why I came up here. "I wanted to apologize. For grabbing you like that."

Sarah looks at me with a puzzled expression. She reaches up to brush a strand of wet hair from her face, and the towel shifts again. I force my eyes to stay on her face, but it’s a battle I’m rapidly losing.

"Since when do you apologize for being mean to me?" she asks.

"Since...now?" I ask.

"I accept your apology. Now, would you mind moving aside so I can change?" she asks quietly.

"Eh...yea," I mumble and move aside.

Sarah hurries past me and moves toward the dresser. She turns to look at me. "Would you mind..."

"What?" I ask.

"Going to the other room so I can finish getting dressed?" she asks.

I laugh out loud, feeling quite airy as the alcohol is working its magic in me. "Why would I do that, Sarah? No. I will sit right here while you get dressed because I have the right to enjoy the show," I declare.

Sarah clutches the towel tighter around her body, and for a moment, I think she’s going to tell me to leave again.

"Fine," she says, her voice soft but not trembling. "If that’s what you want."

She turns away from me, moving toward the bed where she’s laid out her clothes. I settle into the armchair in the corner of the room.

Sarah hesitates, her back to me. The curve of her spine is visible through the thin towel. Water still clings to her skin, glistening in the soft bedroom light.

"You’re really going to watch?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder.

I nod. "Yup. I’m really going to watch."

She turns slightly. "Why?" she asks.

"Why not? You are my wife, so I should be able to see you naked, no?" I drawl.

"You’ve seen me naked a hundred times already," she reminds me.

"And now I get to see you naked the hundredth and one time," I say and wave my hand at her. "Drop the towel."

Sarah stares at me and for a moment, I think she’s going to refuse, to grab her clothes and storm off to the bathroom. But no.

"Fine," she says, her voice surprisingly steady.

She turns to face me fully, one hand still clutching the towel at her chest. With deliberate slowness, she lets it drop.

The towel pools around her feet, and suddenly my mouth goes dry. Her body is still damp from the shower, her skin flushed pink from the hot water. The gentle swell of her belly isn’t noticeable yet. It’s too early for that, but I find my eyes drawn there anyway.

"Happy now?" she asks, making no move to cover herself.

I nod. "Come here."

She shakes her head no.

"Sarah, please. I am not trying to order you, I swear. Just...come to me," I plead.

Her shoulders tense a little, but she takes a step toward me. Then another.

When she reaches me, I gently take her hand, pulling her closer until she’s standing between my knees.

My palm rests against her abdomen, warm and smooth. There’s nothing to feel yet, no physical evidence of the life growing inside her, but knowing it’s there changes everything.

"How long before I can feel it move?" I blurt out.

"Around sixteen to twenty weeks," she says softly. "Though it might be earlier or later. Everyone’s different."

My hand remains on her stomach, my thumb moving in small circles against her skin.

"I see," I say, my voice rougher than I intended.

I feel her hand on top of my head, her fingers burying in my hair. Her touch is light, hesitant as if she’s afraid I’ll pull away.

My hands move to her waist, drawing her closer. She comes willingly, settling onto my lap, her naked body warm against mine. I can feel her heartbeat, rapid and strong.

"I won’t let you go, you know. I will force you to stay with me forever so you won’t get to be happy with some asshole like Josh," I murmur against her skin.

"Hmm...okay," was all she had to say.